Sturmey Archer’s Slipped Cogs


#261

Sunday January 12th:

NastyArseshur: “…wedding bells in Ambridge! Ooooo, I can’t wait!”
BaconBoy: “…me neither!”

RestofWorld: “…is there an echo in here?” :face_with_raised_eyebrow::thinking:


#262

I was driving home from Mass at the time

Note to self:
Do not listen to TA when in charge ovvan vehicule …

'nother note to self:
Provide suitable receptacles in which to throw up

Carinthia.xx


#263

What I don’t understand (Inspector) is why that wet week Windy Miller didn’t just stab TomTit through the eye with a fork. Or a rose stem.

“I’ve always loved roses and chrysanthemums”. That’s nice, dear. But seldom in the same bunch, surely.


#264

Totally weird, their reciting marriage vows to each other. Tom’s worried about Natasha spending all their money and Kirsty about Philip’s health, I suppose.


#265

Because it would miss his brain by about three feet


#266

oh joe, you’re so practical, dere.


#267

But think of how artistic the crime scene photos would be!


#268

…I thought the same, and am still trying to fathom that one out, as well as flushing the very thought from this demented mind with copious amounts of adult-beverages, and several bales of good baccy! :thinking::thinking::thinking::thinking::thinking::thinking:


#269

“Do we want the SOCOs or NAFAS, guv?”


#270

Well, someone has to be. She’d only go to Helen for advice, as usual–even knowing that her technique isn’t particularly effective.


#271

NAFAS, of course. SOCO did enough damage before…


#272

…endless discussions of photies in excruciating detail ensues! (…be careful what you wish for, me owd sparra!)


#273

Werl, I’m used to that, being an innocent bird who happens to have a number of friends wot are profoundly misunderstood by the legal system…


#274

A fitting end for Twonk would be trussed with an apple rammed in his gob


#275

And, in a nod to Eastern culinary traditions and in the spirit of fusion food, the fat end of a pineapple up the other end of his alimentary tract.


#276

…oh no! (…memories of stuck-piggy, then spit-roast, then Sodom&Begorrah… …exits, screaming…) :nauseated_face::nauseated_face::nauseated_face::nauseated_face::nauseated_face::nauseated_face::face_vomiting::face_vomiting::face_vomiting::face_vomiting::face_vomiting::face_vomiting::face_vomiting:


#277

High political office surely beckons…


#278

Gus

I hope you have a wire on that pineapple to s-l-o-o-o-o-o-wl-y pull it out


#279

Mais naturellement. But you’re not expecting me to eat it after that, are you?


#280

…a wire attached to the pin, of course! (…at least I hope that’s what you mean!) :open_mouth::open_mouth::open_mouth: